


Swipe Right

by parabuttai



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: F/M, set after the events of twk, thank god for big sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17564804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parabuttai/pseuds/parabuttai
Summary: “Here” says Vivi, passing me her phone.  “I made you a tinder.”“A what?” I ask, immediately suspicious.  I take the offered phone like it’s a snake and peer at the screen. The first thing I see is a picture of me at the bar we went to last night.  I’m beaming at the camera and holding a glass of wine precariously in one hand.  Beneath the picture is my name and age. There’s also the caption, you had me at merlot, followed by list of likes that include fitness and dogs, each accompanied by a matching emoji.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Jude is feeling low after the events of TWK and Vivi and Heather take it upon themselves to cheer her up.





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m not going, I’ve decided.” I say, resolutely throwing myself down on the couch.

“That’s the third time you’ve said that in the past hour.” Heather observes from her chair.  She’s cocooned in three layers of blankets, her face visible only from the chin up while she scoops ramen into her mouth with a fork looking every bit the art student that she is.  “Do you mean it this time?”  I contemplate giving her the middle finger but sigh, she’s right. 

“You know Jude has a flair for melodrama,” cackles my older sister Vivi from where she is snuggled cat like at Heather’s side.  “She’s going to cancel at least six more times before she actually walks out the door.” This does earn her a flick of the finger as I stalk past the pair who are quietly snickering at my expense and slam the door to my room open, glaring at my reflection in the tall mirror that hangs next to my cramped, little bed.  I’m annoyed, but not at my sister.  I’m annoyed at myself. 

It’s been four months since I was banished from Fairy.  Four months that I have sulked uselessly around this flat, gorging myself on pop tarts and lolling on the couch watching cartoons.  I might have gained a new found, encyclopaedic knowledge of the Simpsons, but I am no closer to working out a plan to return home and wreak vengeance and wade in the blood of those that have wronged me.  I reflect on my last thought and let out an annoyed huff.  Vivi might be right, I _have_ developed a flair for melodrama.

I’ve found my sister has an annoying habit of being right, at least when it comes to forcing me to get out of the house and out of my slump.  It all started a couple of weeks ago when she slapped a pair of trainers on my stomach where I lay on the couch, covered in a light layer of crumbs which I had failed to brush from my body. 

“Get up, we’re going for a run” Vivi snapped.  She was already dressed in spandex trousers and a light green tank top.  She looked disconcertingly human, especially after she snapped a pair of headphones down over her pointed ears.  It took a lot of sniping to get me ready but Vivi wasn’t willing to take no for an answer and soon enough the pair of us were pounding our way down the sidewalk.  My breath came in short snatches and I was unsettled to realise how weak my body still was after my trip underwater.  The months in the human world had helped to restore my curves and fill out the hollows of my face as I had eaten my way through the inside of my sister’s fridge but my moths of sloth had done nothing for my fitness.  I winced as I imagined what my adoptive father Madoc would say if he saw me now and then forced the thought out of my mind.  It was too painful to think of those left behind in Fairy right now as thoughts of Madoc would inevitably lead me to think of Taryn and her betrayal which would lead me to think of her despicable husband Locke, and the thoughts of husbands… Resolutely I forced myself to think only of the burning in my lungs and concentrated on keeping pace with Vivi and her long, wiry legs.

After a while, as we settled into a rhythm I found myself beginning to enjoy the run, especially when we rounded a corner and found ourselves no longer running through tall buildings but alongside the edge of the ocean.   We stopped to take in the view and I was so distracted looking at the gently lapping water that I barely noticed when Vivi whipped out her phone to snap a photo of me, smiling against the backdrop of the pier and half an hour later, when we arrived home exhausted and covered in sweat I was so eager to get in the shower I completely forgot my scheming sister and her phone.  I shouldn’t have.

Over the next few days Vivi and Heather made it their personal mission to get me out of the house.  We went to cute cafes, and art galleries in the day and went to trendy bars by night.  Initially I thought their insistence we attend these venues was a misguided, but sweet attempt to get me

“Here” says Vivi, passing me her phone.  “I made you a tinder.”

“A what?” I ask, immediately suspicious.  I take the offered phone like it’s a snake and peer at the screen. The first thing I see is a picture of me at the bar we went to last night.  I’m beaming at the camera and holding a glass of wine precariously in one hand.  Beneath the picture is my name and age. There’s also the caption, _you had me at merlot,_ followed by list of likes that include fitness and dogs, each accompanied by a matching emoji. 

“This is why you’ve been forcing me to come out with you guys?” I cry as my worst fears are confirmed.

“Yup,” says Vivi looking entirely unconcerned by my outrage.  Heather, at least, looks a little bit guilty.

“You’ve been so sad Jude,” she sighs, peering up at me from beneath her blue bangs.  “We just wanted to get you out of your funk.”

Vivi cuts her off. “You need to get laid,” she drawls loudly, enunciating each word in clipped tones. “You’re welcome, enjoy.  Go get some”

“I don’t need to get laid,” I scoff.  “I’m not using this.”

“You don’t have a choice,” she whips the phone out of my hand and taps something on the screen.  “This is Dean, a professional fencer. Single. You’re having dinner with him tonight at eight.”  A tanned blonde man smiles up at me from the screen.  His face is guileless and handsome, and I pause.  Unbidden, thoughts of dark hair and wicked smiles flash through my mind before I force them away.  Maybe a date, a date with a human is not such a bad idea. 

“You could be onto something” I murmur, swiping my finger over Dean to reveal a picture of him shirtless and sweating, practice sword in hand.  I smile.

“Obviously,” snaps Vivi with a roll of her eyes, but she’s smiling too.  “Now go gettem, tiger.” 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The restaurant where I am to meet my tinder date is a riot of colour and noise and I tug nervously at the neckline of the dress that I had decided on.  It’s black and strapless, and in the safety of Vivi and Heather’s apartment it had seemed daring and sexy.  Now, in the crowded atmosphere of Paladar, a Latin American restaurant with a half decent menu and even more decent happy hour, it seems like one misstep will see me exposing myself to the happy people thronging around me. 

“Hey… Jude?” The voice is confident and American and I turn around to see a tall blond man looking expectantly at me.

“That’s me,” I agree.  His hair seems too light and foppish, and although he is nicely muscled his skin and teeth are no match for the luminescent perfection of the fae. I find my mind instantly drawn to comparisons of dark hair, flashing eyes and wicked lips before I force myself to behave.  “You must be Dean” I say with what I hope is a convincing smile. 

Dean seems pleased, or at least doesn’t comment on my awkwardness.  Instead he cracks a laugh “Hey Jude” he mutters seemingly to himself, “I bet you get that all the time!” He laughs more loudly this time, seemingly expecting me to join in so I do, although I have no idea what he’s laughing about.

This… becomes the trend for the evening. Dean is fairly interesting, and decently attractive but all this is overshadowed by his constant cracking at jokes.  At first it’s vaguely reassuring.  There as is very little requirement for me to make conversation and I can soak in the entirely human atmosphere that permeates the place without fearing that I am going to out myself as other.  However, as the night wears on and he continues with a never ending parade of puns and wisecracks I find myself growing tired of the constant laughing.

Cardan would think he’s a fool.

The thought flitters through my mind before I can stop it and his name snags in my brain.

Cardan.

I had spent the first week after my sudden exile from Fairy raging and cursing his name. I had thrown things and imagined taking his pale throat in my hands and choking him until all that was left was his unwavering smirk. I had imagine running him through like I had his brother.  But thoughts of his skin, his lips had led to other, less violent thoughts that I was no longer ready to face.  So in the weeks after I had buried all thoughts of him as far down as I could until it almost seemed like I had forgotten his name. Almost.

Now, here in this obnoxious restaurant I have let him in. 

“I need a drink.” I say abruptly, interrupting Dean midsentence.  He looks a little put out, he’s half way through a joke about garlic sellers and too many eyes which I’m sure is raucously unfunny.

“Do you want me to wave someone over?” He asks magnanimously but I shake my head.

“I’ll get it,” I say standing so he can’t say no.  “I need to go to the ladies anyway, I’ll get it on my way back.”

The room is swelteringly hot and I need to get away.  I find a place at the bar, out of Dean’s eye line and order a glass of red wine.  It’s sweet, and not too overpowering when compared to the potent liquors that the fae revel in so I order another. 

“Not enjoying your date?”  The voice is cool, and purposely disaffected.  Summoned, no doubt, by my weakness and the second glass of wine.

“What’s not to enjoy about spending time with someone who actually likes me?”  I can be calm too.  I turn to look beside me, where Cardan is standing in all his glory.  Of course, he’s not really there.  This used to happen too, at the start of my exile.  The force of my hatred had been enough to summon hallucinations of my so-called husband that haunted me across the human world and had been a deciding factor in my decision to not think of him. 

The Cardan construct hums thoughtfully, fiddling with the bar napkin that has been discarded in front of him.

“I thought you found conflict stimulating, wife.”  He doesn’t look my way, just shreds the napkin piece by piece between his fingers.  I however, turn to run my eyes over him.  Memory is cruel and fickle.  The Cardan I see is just as beautiful and otherworldly as I remember, stretched tall and thin in my mind’s eye.  “You always seem to seek it out.”

“You mean I refused to let myself be taken advantage of,” I snort.  I would never be so careless around the real Cardan, not even when I had complete and utter control of him.  But here, in the middle of a packed bar, talking to myself I can be.  “Attack is the best form of defence.”

“You feel I took advantage of you?” He twists the napkin, winding it between skilled fingers. 

“You took everything from me,” I growl. Wishing he would look at me so he could see my bared teeth.  “I thought I could trust you, I thought…”  But this is something too shameful to admit aloud, even to myself so I let the words trail off.

Cardan’s fingers weave through the napkin, peeling back layers until it no longer resembles a plain, bar napkin but instead a clever paper flower woven by cunning fingers. “Sometimes it’s necessary to make concessions in the name of war.”

“We’re not at war.” I snap. 

Finally, Cardan turns and his eyes burn me.  I feel hot as he runs his eyes over my face, down my throat.  He lingers on the neckline of my stupid, daring dress.

“Are we not?” He asks, his face knowing.  Then he is gone, and I am left alone with my empty glass.

After that I had little desire to continue on my date.  Dean finds me, eventually and I fain a headache from too much wine. He is sympathetic and a gentleman and insists on paying for the tapas we’d shared and both my drinks. 

“Pretty neat, did you do that?” He asks, gesturing next to me.

“What?” I ask. But Dean isn’t really listening anymore, already halfway through the start of his next joke.   I follow where his finger had briefly pointed and my heart sticks to my throat.

Next to me, starkly white against the dark brown of the bar top, is the napkin rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might up the rating for the next chapter, might not. We'll see.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s nearing midnight when Dean drops me off at the door of Vivi and Heather’s place.  He lingers awkwardly and pointedly, but I am too full of adrenalin to pay much attention and see him off with a quick smile and a vague promise about drinks in the future.  My mind is racing as I take the stairs two at a time, letting myself silently into the apartment.  All the lights are off, Vivi and Heather have gone to bed so I scramble through the living room in the dark, wrenching the door to my room open with barely restrained energy coursing through my veins.

For a moment, I see nothing other than the semi-darkness of the room I have made my own.  The half made bed lies with rumpled sheets thrown over it in my half-hearted attempt to fix the covers and the rejected outfits I tried on earlier that night are strewn across the floor.  It’s painfully mundane and my heart twists at the sight before I shake my head, frustrated.  I don’t know what I expected, what that moment in the bar had convinced me would happen, but my own mess of a room doesn’t satisfy the pounding in my chest.

The frustration builds and I wasn’t to scream but before I have the chance to let out so much as a muffled hiss someone grabs me around the waist and I snap from angry human to trained warrior.  I kick back, hard, and perform a twist that had taken me two months of solid practice to perfect.  There is a groan behind me and I press my advantage, throwing my weight forward and driving my attacker to the ground.  I don’t have time to consider how they got in past Vivi and Heather because they grab me again, spinning me so fast that the world blurs and I am disoriented.  I blindly grope out, feeling for eyeballs, or a throat or anything that will be easy to scratch at with my blunt human nails but strong hands grab my wrists, pinning them above my head and a weight settles across my chest as they straddle me.  I glare up, spitting with rage as my eyes adjust and I realise just who is in my room on top of me.

“Hello, Jude.” Purrs Cardan.

He looks so smug, leaning down over me that I automatically lunge, or try to.  His hands tighten around my wrists, stopping me from doing anything other than wriggling slightly beneath him.  My head raising off the floor before snapping painfully down.

“Now, now.  Settle down,” he is composed, even now as he straddles me and I am powerless beneath him.  That doesn’t stop me from trying to rip his throat out with my teeth.  I don’t manage, but I am vindicated to see his grin slip into a look of concentration as he is forced to focus on keeping me down. 

“What do you want?” I hiss.

“Want?” He repeats, and his face is carefully blank as he looks down at me. “I want you to be able to restrain yourself from acting like a human savage long enough for us to have a conversation.”

I let out a bitter chuckle, that’s slightly muffled thanks to Cardan restraining me with his thighs. “Well that might be a little difficult seeing as I am a human savage thanks to you.”  I am still a little tipsy from the wine I had earlier, but for a second it seems like he winces. 

“It’s not only little humans who have a head for schemes.” He says ambiguously.  “Besides, it’s not like you seem to mind spending time in the human world.”

I am confused, but when I open my mouth to express my displeasure I am hit with his warm scent and I forget what I am about to say.  Despite my anger, despite the time that’s passed and his brother’s blood on my hands that scent is still comforting somehow, like the tinkle of rain on a windowpane while the storm rages outside.  Even here in the human world, amongst the debris of my human life it smells of power and desire and it renders me speechless even more so than his weight on my chest and just like that the heat of my anger cools, and fades to sadness.

“I hate it, I hate who I am here.” I confess to him. 

He raises one eyebrow “you hate it so much you console yourself cavorting with human men?” He asks and the question is phrased so casually it takes me a moment to catch up.  Then I look up to where he is leaning over me, covering my body almost entirely with his, his hands pinning me to the ground. 

“Are you…” I struggle to get the words out, incredulous to the end.  “Cardan, are you jealous?”

“You did promise to be my wife, did you not?”

The fact he does not answer the question directly speaks volumes.  Fairies cannot lie. 

The answer is yes.  Cardan is jealous.

Of all the things I had expected when we were finally reunited, this was not it.  How could Cardan, who freed himself from under my control and spurned me in front of all of Fairy care about what I have been doing while in the human world?  It’s laughable.  Especially when it had taken the combined forces of Vivi and Heather to get me to do anything even slightly resembling fun. 

“And you promised to make me queen,” I say, my smile cat sharp.  “Looks like neither of us got what we wanted.” I expect a snide remark, so when he says nothing and instead releases one of my wrists and moves his hand to cup my face I am shocked.  His hand is neither hot, nor cold and yet I feel it burning into my skin hotter than the hottest fire, colder than the most frigid of ice.  It’s not soft enough to be a caress, but it’s nowhere near as firm as the hold he had on me beforehand and before my brain process what is happening my body goes into auto drive and I use my free hand to snake between our bodies and flip us over so I am on top and Cardan is flat on his back, pinned beneath me.  He never was as good a warrior as I. 

Despite our reversal of fortunes Cardan doesn’t look worried.  In fact, he looked amused, lounging beneath me.  “What do you want Jude?” He asks, mirroring my question from earlier.

Rather than answer, rather than confront the conflicting emotions screaming beneath my skin, I lean down and press my lips to his in a desperate kiss.

I suppose that is answer enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> add extra, explicit follow up? Yes, no?


End file.
